


Music will be my voice

by Narttu



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narttu/pseuds/Narttu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How music changed everything for Tommy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music will be my voice

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Fictionfreak15  
> For the hc_bingo Upset at higher being

“Like this?” Tommy strummed the guitar once before trying to play the same melody his grandfather had just showed him. The sound that came out wasn’t even close. Growing frustrated, he pushed the guitar off of his lap, taking a small joy in the clang noise it made when it met the floor.

Thomas, Tommy’s grandfather, smacked him in the back of the head. “That is not some cheap toy. If you want to continue to learn, you’re going to have to learn patience. Now pick it up and try again.”

Doing as he was told, Tommy tried again. But this time the tune was much closer than it had been before. After repeating the process several times he was able to get it. A look of great accomplishment covered his face.

“Time to wash up boys.” His grandmother had on her frilly white apron as she ducked her head into the living room.

Thomas rested his guitar next to the recliner as he gripped onto the arms to help him up. Tommy however was much faster.

These weekends were always his favorite. His sister found anyway she could to get out of it. Usually spending the time at friends so that his parents had some alone time. It always meant that Tommy had more time to practice the guitar. His grandfather had been teaching him for about a year now and he was becoming quite good at it. His grandmother's cooking was far better than his mother's. Not that he would complain either way. But his granny always made cakes for dessert. It was heaven. Tommy would eat his fair share and then some.

Afterwards when their bellies were full and bloated, his grandmother would retire to the bedroom to read and fall asleep early. But not the boys, oh no. Thomas had an impressive collection of classic horror movies. Tommy would pick out a different one each time, and together on the couch, they would watch the horror in black and white unfold before them.

At the end of the weekend Tommy was always sent home with a music sheet to practice and a slice of cake for his sister. The cake never did reach her. After school and before homework, Tommy practiced the music sheet he was given. It was during one of those afternoons when he heard the front door slam and the sounds of his mother wailing. The sound petrified him. Coming out of his room slowly and down the stairs, he listened to his parents voices.

“I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I know hunny. None of us knew he was sick. There was nothing that could have been done.”

“He was my father. How can I go on without him?”

Walking into the living room, Tommy felt the pain in his chest. The conversation said it all, but for some reason, till the words were spoken directly to him Tommy could not believe it. “What happened to grandpa?”

“Hunny come sit.” His mother’s voice shook as she tried to be calm for her son. Her eyes bloodshot and nose red took all the hope out of it.

“What happened?” Tommy’s voice rose higher then it normally was. His body shaking slightly, just wanting answers.

“Grandpa was sick. He had cancer and last night he went to heaven.” Getting up from the couch to hug her son, Tommy twisted out of her arms and ran out of the front door. “Thomas Joe Ratliff, you come back here!”

This was the fastest Tommy had ever ran in his life. Faster then the laps they made him run in gym class. Faster than when his sister had taken his playboy and went to show their parents. Faster than when he got in line for taco day in the cafeteria.

Feeling the tears prick at his eyes as they made trails down his cheeks, it was his legs giving out that stopped him instantly. Falling hard to the sidewalk, he rolled onto the grass and laid there. Letting the tears come. Letting the pain consume him.

The police had been called shortly after he had run off. When they found him, Tommy gave up without a fight, allowing them to place him in the back of a squad car and be driven home. During the next few days Tommy was allowed to stay home from school. Only leaving the house when they went to the church for the funeral.

Being dressed in a suit and sitting in the front pew, he listened to the minister talk about his grandfather like he knew him. But the words where all wrong. It was too impersonal. Then he went on about it being an act of God. Taking his child home or some shit. No, he was not buying it.

Outside Tommy crossed his arms over his chest, watching as the casket was lowered into the ground. Right then and there he made a choice. To him, there was no God. No higher being would ever take away someone so awesome when there were people like Duncan in his class who hit other students for fun. Or even killers and such. Instead, they took his grandfather. With it, they also took his faith.

Time moved more slowly after the funeral. He had to go back to school. Others didn’t understand why Tommy was a bit more gloomy and dark then he was before. They couldn’t understand because they still had their grandparents. Except for Mike who lost his beloved puppy when he ran out into the road.

Arriving home from school, there were several items in his room. A box was on the bed. Inside of it was a dozen movies, an antique watch and several other trinkets. What really got his attention was the guitar leaning against the wall. Thomas had told him that once he graduated he would get this guitar as his very own.

Letting out a deep breath, he picked the guitar up and went to sit on the bed. Tommy strummed out several cords. The more he played, the calmer he felt. So Tommy played till dinner and then played till he was yelled at twice to go to bed. Each afternoon was the same thing. Homework done but to the bare minimum; he focused his attention to music. It healed his heart in a way nothing else was able to.

School was out and the sun shined bright in the sky. Getting off of his bike, Tommy turned the guitar strap around so it was facing the right way. Heading through the rows of tombstones, he stopped at his grandfather's and took a seat.

“I’ve been practicing every day.” Strumming out a tune he wrote himself, Tommy hit every cord perfectly. His fingers becoming an extension to the instrument. When the song finished, he strummed the cords fast, now just showing off. “One day I’m going to be a famous guitar player and I will have you to thank.”

Moving to stand back up he rested his hand against the cold stone for several moments, silently saying what he really needed to say. Heading back to his bike, Tommy knew as long as he had music in his life that things would be okay.

The End


End file.
